Deep perfume seeps still from the fallen rose Down down endlessly
filling the air with all that is pure, and soon all that is not
diamonds glisten upon its skin Sparkling in the summer heat, he
knows this won't be the end
moisture condenses around his roots, the tree growing up into
heaven, life surging around him, springing, growing, ripping
through the thick and crusted earth. Pun i ca gra na tum is such a complex word for what here has come to pass. the roots shooting down and spreading, their mirrors filling the sky, soaking up our
shining beams of phantasmal brilliance.
Only those loved have names wouldn't you Agree some are special
to the producing world, and Others are left to rot, take the fruit of a morning lily, no one loves her, yet she bears all the same
something stirs within his being, some new body grows out from
inside, some new some new some new something new. The sky fills
with blood espousal carillon, their pods filling rich and new,
chiming out for all to hear the dawn rising, the birds flying, yes,
hear them fly above as you watch their song paint the sky in cool
purples and blues.
Color is so trite and love is so outdated and there are those who
wish for the end of the world as well Creation falling to the Ground
as the rosebud does in winter
united in final ecstasy, the bells descend as dying mistrals unveil
our sinking crown, sound-bow dripping away
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC
Deep perfume seeps still from the fallen rose Down down endlessly
filling the air with all that is pure, and soon all that is not
diamonds glisten upon its skin Sparkling in the summer heat, he
knows this won't be the end
moisture condenses around his roots, the tree growing up into
heaven, life surging around him, springing, growing, ripping
through the thick and crusted earth. Pun i ca gra na tum is such a complex word for what here has come to pass. the roots shooting down and spreading, their mirrors filling the sky, soaking up our
shining beams of phantasmal brilliance.
Only those loved have names wouldn't you Agree some are special
to the producing world, and Others are left to rot, take the fruit of a morning lily, no one loves her, yet she bears all the same
something stirs within his being, some new body grows out from
inside, some new some new some new something new. The sky fills
with blood espousal carillon, their pods filling rich and new,
chiming out for all to hear the dawn rising, the birds flying, yes,
hear them fly above as you watch their song paint the sky in cool
purples and blues.
Color is so trite and love is so outdated and there are those who
wish for the end of the world as well Creation falling to the Ground
as the rosebud does in winter
united in final ecstasy, the bells descend as dying mistrals unveil
our sinking crown, sound-bow dripping away
